Oneirology
by EYES to LIE
Summary: Oneirology; the scientific study of dreams. "What did you dream about?" "I dreamed of flying." "...Why?" And tears fall once more, soaking into his dark robe. "Because Jonivin called me Little Bird." Refia-centric oneshot. Implied Rape.


**Title: **_Oneirology_  
**By: **_EYES to LIE_  
**Rating: **_T_  
**Disclaimer: **_Final Fantasy III and its characters are not my property. I am but a humble slave to the fandom._  
**Notes: **_Alright, it happened again. I'm sitting in the basement, playing a bit of .Hack(Plot Bunnies have the WEIRDEST timing...), when all of a sudden-BANG! -slams hand on computer desk for emphasis- Frick! Ow... Yeah. I got Ninja'd by a Plot Bunny. Again. And it's ALWAYS when I least expect it too! Just BANG. And then I either type it up or have my brain explode. And I like my brain unexploded._

_And a little side note. This title actually DOES have a purpose.  
_

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There are little voices she wants to forget.

They come at midnight, whispering in her ears as she tends the fire pit. The others don't hear them. They sleep soundly, not even twitching. Just peaceful and lulling sounds of in and out. And listening to those sounds, she feels herself start to doze. Then the voices come. _Silly little bird, _they whisper. _You understand nothing. You remember nothing. Or you pretend not to, but you do. You really do. And you can't fool us. _And she bites her bottom lip to keep from crying or crying out. Only crying in.

_Coward, _they hiss. _Liar. Pretender. They don't know, but you do. We'll never let you forget. So put on your smiles, laugh at their jokes, because we'll never leave. We'll be here until you _die_, Little Bird._

Fat tears fall down her cheeks now, dripping onto her pure colored White Mage robe. Arc had agreed to be the Black Mage, leaving her in this uniform. She suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to rip it off and throw it into the fire, even though she knew from past experience that it would always come back. The Jewel's Power could not be destroyed. But she could try. So into the fire it went once more, leaving the strawberry blonde in the black underdress she wore beneath the robe.

Once more, she sat down on the log, staring into the flames and the fabric, not burning.

The voices scoff at her attire. _Fitting for one of no soul. Black as your hollow heart. Crazy child._

No.

_Insane bitch._

No no no.

_Slut._

She clutches at her ears, grabbing bunches of her soft hair at the same time. Feeling the skin break beneath her nails and the roots of the strands scream with protest, she focuses on the pain and tries to run the voices out. And for awhile it works. But when she relaxes, thinks they are gone for the night, they come back with one final word.

_Murderer._

The tears that had tried come back with a vengeance, and she knows that she's going to scream, so despite common sense telling her to stay put, safe away from monsters, she runs into the forest, trying desperately to find a place far away. Her pace is frightening, the kind whose only competition would be the wind, but her chest isn't even heaving when she stops at a small lake. And for a moment, she forgets what she even came here for. Then a voice comes back, a gentle one, like a mother trying to comfort a child with a broken limb, or a lover trying to sooth their beloved.

_Let it out, _the voice whispers.

And she screams, an unearthly howl that sounds more like a monster in the forest has been stabbed by a sword. A sound of unimaginable pain. But even as she screams, she can make out the sound of the voice in her mind, comforting her, rubbing cool salve on the open wound.

_Let it out._

All those nights, in his bed, in his arms, afraid to cry but wanting to so badly. Trying to enter the house quietly so your step-father won't find out, and the expression of outrage and pure disgust that contorted his features when he did. The expression that terrified you when you told him you were pregnant. The tears you let loose when he forbid you to see the father again, but the tears he thought were sadness but you knew were joy.

The pain you felt when you thrust the sword into your own stomach, killing the monster there. But oh, the feeling of triumph that made the bleeding and burning and almost-dieing worth it. And then he came back and told you that your meetings with him _must continue_. The feeling of your world shattering. And that night, when you told him no, and he took you forcibly. And when he told you there was no need for you anymore, because there was another girl in the village whom he had set his sights on.

The feel of your own eyes widening--not in betrayal, or hurt, but fear. Not another girl! Not another one to go through this!--and the feel of the knife so solid in your hands, the knife you had hidden there months before, when these _meetings _first began. The splash of his blood on your skin as you cut his throat--just a scratch at first, but when he stared in shock, you leaped on top of him, slashing deeper and deeper until blade met bone.

The look of fear on your step-father's face when he was told what you had done. The look of shock and regret on everyone's face when they were told why you done it. The look of pleading on Takka's face when you came back home, as he wrapped you in his arms and begged you to forgive him for not understanding. Telling you that you were young--only thirteen--and that there was still time to reset your life, and even though you know there wasn't, you tried anyways, for his sake.

So the two of you moved to Kazus. And two years later, you left your new home to go with these three orphans that she had to put on a smiling face for.

_Let it out._

She jolts awake, not sure when she started to sleep. But she is still at that lake from last night, only now it's morning and the crisp dawn air is biting at her skin. She wonders why she fell asleep leaning against a tree and why one part of the tree is softer and warmer. But when her eyes clear, she sees that she is indeed leaning against a tree, but she is also leaning against Luneth, who is staring at her intently with his intense purple eyes. Eyes that are no longer carrying the laugh they normally do.

Eyes that _know._

He doesn't have to tell her, because she knows that he knows that she knows he knows. In that unspoken connection that only two who share a soul can have. He pulls her closer and she doesn't pull away, but grips the light fabric of his newly tried on Black Mage uniform like it was all that kept her from flying off into space. Lips lightly graze her forehead, and she can tell how warm he is--how warm his _heart _is--compared to her coldness.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs into her hair as he rests his chin on the crown of her head. "But I knew something was wrong. ...I used the magic."

She doesn't say anything as she buries her face into his chest. She had left her mind open, and it was inevitable. But it was better him than Arc or Ingus. Better him than anyone.

"Refia?"

"Hm?"

"...What did you dream about?" he asks her, either in a strong desire to change the discussion or to keep her mind from straying to darker places. But she feels a need to laugh, because he's a Black Mage so he knows what she dreamed about.

"I dreamed of flying."

"...Why?"

And the laugh feeling drains away as the tears fall once more, soaking themselves into his dark robe. "Because Jonivin called me Little Bird."

He holds her trembling form as the sun breaks over the top of the forest pines.

* * *

_Oi that was hard. And for you people out there who didn't get how Luneth knows, he switched Jobs to a Black Mage and read her thoughts as she screamed. Yes. In my crazy imaginary world, they can do that._

_A special thanks to: MY iPOD. I would never have the attention span to make this without you.  
_


End file.
